


I Was Made for Loving You

by CrimsonRose (DelphiniumLily), DelphiniumLily



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Thor, Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Daddy Bucky, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, Little Reader, Mates, Multi, Not as heavily scarred Wade, Omega Peter Parker, Omega Reader, Protective Bucky Barnes, omega Darcy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:02:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphiniumLily/pseuds/CrimsonRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphiniumLily/pseuds/DelphiniumLily
Summary: The coffee shop door jingles as it swings open, and you freeze as the scent fills your lungs. A mixture of freshly cut grass, something woodsy, and the ocean. You never thought the feeling of safety and home could be embodied in a smell but here it is. You suck in another mouthful and turn around, coming face to face- more like face to chest, a very broad chest, mind you- withhim.Beautiful blue eyes blaze with emotion, and the awe in his voice is heart-wrenching. "You're... you're my mate." Darcy's gasp is audible. Your jaw flounders. No way in hell is your mate the Winter Soldier.Despite being reluctant to rush into a relationship with a world-renowned assassin, the reader can't deny her feelings and the unmistakable sincerity in Bucky's eyes when he promises her everything she could ever want. And he somehow knowsexactlywhat she needs.





	1. Ya broke it

"You all done here?" You grab the plates from the table at the couple's affirmation, smiling sweetly at them. They murmur a thanks, and you swing back to the kitchen with the dirty dishes. "Hey, got a few incoming," you shout as you slide through the door.

"Hey, (Y/N), you almost outta here?" Sam asks, towel thrown over his shoulders. His red checkered apron makes for a funny look on the tall boy, but it manages to be endeaering.

"Yeah, I'm headed out now, actually." You remove your own black server's apron, ducking into the side room to fold it and stash the garment in your locker, and exchange the uniform for regular clothes. You exit back into the kitchen, patting Sam on the back as he works the dishes. "By the way." You grin. "That apron is hella cute on you."

Sam chuckles, hazel eyes lit up warmly. You can't help but smile back. Sometimes, you wish you could have an alpha like Sam. Sweet, trustworthy, protective. And he'd never once made a move on you or anyone else, despite his ranking. That makes him _normal _, the voice in your head reminds you, not _good _.____

He throws a, "seeya, (Y/N)," over his shoulder as you weave between ovens and racks, towards the exit. You wave a goodbye to Hannah and Jo, the two other girls working the tables. Jo smiles and salutes a goodbye back. You grin, pushing out of the doorway backwards.

This turns out to be a mistake, as you immediately bump into someone. You jump back, apology on your lips.

"Watch where you're going, bitch." The man is tall and burly, and you step back in surprise, despite the rage blooming in your chest at the rudeness and audacity of the comment. You take a deep breath and collect yourself, only letting the air rush from your lungs as he steps inside. Relief worms its way into your mind, you're lucky he didn't take it further.

Straightening up, you brush it off, and head to the apartment you share with Peter and Darcy, two other omegas. Darcy has been dating Steve for a while now, and you find yourself liking him more and more, the more you got to know him and realize that he treats Darcy right. Peter, on the other hand, is an absolute terror to reign in. A sweet boy, but reckless and self-sacrificial as hell. Living with him is fun, but sometimes more of an unpaid babysitting gig. Stupid Spiderman shit.

Once you get home, you plant on collapsing into bed and curling up under the blanket, and then sleeping for ages. You have an early shift tomorrow, and then a few classes in the afternoon but, luckily, Charlie had given you Friday off, so you had made plans to try out a new coffee shop downtown with Darcy. It was probable that you and Darcy meant you and Darcy and Steve, but you didn't mind the extra company.

Unlocking the door turns out to be an ordeal as well, and you curse under your breath as it slams shut behind you. You quickly make your way to your closet to hang up your jacket and dump your bag. Next, you head to the kitchen to finally fix a meal for yourself, but are stopped in your tracks at the sight in front of you. Peter fumbles sheepishly at the way your jaw hangs open.

___You blow out a breath in exasperation, and squeeze your hand over the top of your head, slicking back a few greasy strands of baby hair. "I _told_ you! The dishes have to be rinsed _before_ they go in the dishwasher! And now-" You point to the steaming machine- "Ya broke it." You throw your hands up in frustration. "Peter strikes again. Good job. Do you want us to be impoverished?"_ _ _

Peter rolls his eyes. "We're not that broke. Plus it was a piece of garbage anyway- I mean, I practically did us a favor!"

You glare at him, hands on your hips. "Yeah? Who's gonna pay for a new one, then? You? The dumpster diver?" A retort is on his lips, ready to defend his precious home-made computers at all costs. He is an undeniable genius, as much as it kills you to admit sometimes. 

Darcy chooses the opportune moment to enter the small kitchen, and you can see the light go off in Peter's brain before the words leave his mouth. "Well th-"

"No," you interrupt, "We're not asking Ste-" Peter still hasn't lost the excited glow he gets when one of his brilliant ideas overtakes him. It's kind of a cute look on him, and you can't help but let out a laugh entirely composed of fried nerves and exhaustion. 

"But he could tootally pay for a new one, all Darcy has to do is bat her eyes at him. Hell, all he'd have to do is look at the damn thing and he'd probably buy her- and of course, by extension, us- a whole new apartment out of pity." You can see the hope on his face, and you groan. Darcy doesn't object. Either she's too absorbed in texting said beau, or she can't deny Peter's claim. Most likely, it's both.

"You know what," you scrub a hand over your face, "I don't even care anymore. Ask our sugar daddy." Darcy's face contorts. She jumps up from her leisurely stance and air stabs herself with her finger.

"Hey! MY sugar daddy. Mine!" 

"Yeah, yeah." The words are muttered under your breath as you shuffle out of the steaming kitchen and into your bedroom, letting the door creak shut behind you. You hiss in pain as your hip catches the edge of the desk for the billionth time, hand clamping on the point of impact to try and ease the pain. "Jesus. Shit, that hurt. Freaking klutz."

After taking a moment to mourn your dignity and recover from the battery, you tug off your jeans and t-shirt, tossing them to the laundry pile in the corner. Quickly, you tear your eyes away from the growing pile of dirty clothing, not needing a reminder of yet another task to be done.

A shower is in order, and you've looked forward to it for the entire day, just having come home from a nine-hour shift at the diner. The water eases the screaming ache in your muscles, and it's too soon that the water tinges with cold and you're forced to step out. At least Peter didn't break the shower, too. 

An oversized, worn cotton sweatshirt composes your nightwear. Fat chance whoever your mate ended up being could convince you to wear anything else, let alone one of those stupid lingerie pieces made to impede the advancement of omega rights. _Buy your omega whore this now, and they'll love you_ _forever_ bullshit. 

You never really liked the idea of meeting someone who could legally do anything they wanted to you. Thankfully, omega rights movements were on the rise, but the politicians who made the laws were corrupt and sexist, making it doubtful that things would really change in the near future.

With a huff, you decided to banish such thoughts from your head, wanting to actually feel rested after a night of sorely missed sleep.

You fluff the pillow and lift the covers back before sliding into bed. A content sigh escapes you as you snuggle into the mess of blanket, and you let yourself slip away from the bad events of the day and towards something more soft and peaceful. You bundle the blanket between your arms and burrow your face into the soft fabric, wishing that it could mimic a better sleeping partner. One who might actually hug you, or pull you to their chest and kiss your hair.

The deepest parts of you yearned for someone to finally allow you to let go.

One hand curls further into the blanket, while the other inches up to your mouth, where it toys with your bottom lip. The urge to have your fingers in your mouth grows stronger by the second, and your brain whispers the things you want, but can't bring yourself to say out loud. Want daddy to let me have my Paci. And give me cuddles.

You bite your lip, not wanting to give in, but needing the safety and calmness it provides. The urge to suck your thumb and the need to call someone daddy and be carried on someone's hip have pervaded your thoughts for weeks on end, taking up more and more of your conscious and making it difficult to concentrate on what used to be easy. It's picked up from wanting to be taken care of in times of immense stress to wanting more and more every day.

You've convinced yourself that it's just because you're tired, and it's definitely a factor. You're more than worn out, even. Exhausted. The last few months have been tumultuous, never winding down or allowing for a break. It had started with picking up extra shifts at the diner to cover for Sarah, who'd been dealing with some things, but promised to figure things out and come back as soon as possible. Eventually, Charlie took her off the pay chart, and you assumed she wasn't coming back. Someone new could've stepped in to fill the position, but since you needed the money, you volunteered yourself for the extra hours, thus gaining more responsibility and an affinity for strong coffee.

You suppose that could potentially explain the recent surge of behavior. The coffee has destroyed your brain and all its functions. Maybe Darcy can have Jane look into you, give you a professional, scientific diagnosis. Or, Thor can give you an Asguardian sized dosage of some medicine, preferably something that regenerates brain growth. You groan again, sinking into the blankets, and whine. Stupid omega stuff.

Your thoughts eventually drift back to your interaction at the diner. The rude alpha hadn't been familiar, but what he's said had dredged up some unwanted memories. Hurt coils tightly in your chest as moments of your childhood flash before you. The first time you'd gone into heat, it'd been at a dinner with family friends.

_Heat began to unfurl in your stomach, rising from an uncomfortable presence to painful in mere seconds. You set down the platter, clutching at your stomach with a whine. Something burns in you, beginning to leak into your underwear, and you yelp. Tears of realization push past your eyes as a sweet smell permeates the air._

_"Honey, what's wrong?" Your mom was by your side in an instant, hand pressed to your forehead. "Oh, you're burning up!" She rushed into the kitchen._

_Dan, my dad's primary business associate, sniffed in heavily through his nostrils. "Somethin' sure smells good, Melissa." His gaze turns predatory as it lands on me. "I'd sure love to have a taste."_

_You recoil from the table in shock. The movement doubles the ache, and you heave labored breaths, trying to stay lucid enough to hold a glare leveled at Dan. He grins, teeth looking sharp and dangerous. You glance at your dad, a plea in your eyes. He sighs._

_"She's not old enough, Dan." He laces his fingers together and rests his elbow on the table. "Give it a year."_

_Hurt branches out, hot tears of shame burning your eyes. The casual tone with which your father permits the harassment, and the barely concealed lust permeating the air alludes to previous discussion. "W-what?" You manage to grit out, "Dad, what do- ah!" Your knees falter at the fresh, more intense wave of pain._

_Dan rises from the table. He begins advancing towards you, low growl emanating from his chest. Or his belly, you couldn't tell. "Stop!" You command, but he only stalks further._ _Mom! Mom, help!" Melissa rushes in. Upon seeing the events, she grabs your hand and pulls you with her into the hall._

_"Listen, (Y/N). There's something I should've told you." She glances behind us, and then pushes me to the stairwell. "C'mon, we'll be safe upstairs." She wraps an arm around your waist, and your insides twist in pain, screaming wrong, wrong, wrong until her arm has left you and you collapse onto the bed, a sob catching in your throat._

_She presses a cool cloth against your head, and you groan in the moment of relief from the burning heat coursing through you. She leaves it laying there, brushing a sweat slicked lock of hair from my forehead. She reads the question in your eyes, and her lips tremble for a second. "I... I knew your father and Dan had made some kind of deal." She glances at you, and you can see the frenzied terror you feel, reflected in her features. "At first, I thought. Dan has money, he can provide for you, maybe send you to college..."_

_"What? Mom..." Your voice breaks, the lump in your throat screaming in betrayal. Guilt twists her pretty face._

_"I thought they'd give you more time, wait till you were older." At your indignant look, she murmurs, "Christ, I know. You're 15. You're still a baby." Tears fill her green eyes, the same ones that pierce her with the look of treachery you shoot at her. "I'm sorry." She smooths a hand over the blanket._

_"There's so much you don't know about this world, baby. I thought maybe if it was him, at least I'd have you within arms reach. I could take care of you, make sure you were healthy." She breaks off, tears spilling onto her cheeks._

_"We have to get out of here." Her eyes flick up to yours, and you will your determination to show._

_"We have a year. I've already saved some money, set it aside in the hopes that you could go to school." She's referring to your dream of attending college and making something of yourself. "You just have to stay strong, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." She pulls you into her, but you pull back too soon due to the writhing heat inside you, face scrunched in pain._

_She flutters off, returning a moment later with a bottle labeled 'suppressants'. "Take two," she whispers, holding them out to you. "And don't let your dad see."_

You return to the present with a gasp, pushing the covers away from you as you heave in shallow breaths. You rock back and forth slowly, trying to reassure yourself. "It's okay, it's over. It's over, he's gone. You're okay, it's over."

The litany of words eventually calms you down enough that you release your knees from your chest and let your head thud against the wall behind you. Your eyes slip shut, exhaustion invading your thoughts. For once, you're thankful for the exhaustion stamping out any and all thought. You slide back down between the covers, hugging them to yourself. 

Feeling small and lonely, you allow yourself the comfort of your thumb in your mouth. You suck lightly, unable to help the way your body immediately reacts, relaxing into the mattress.

Your head sinks into the pillow, and sleep isn't far behind. 


	2. Red Dress on Tonight

It's finally Friday, and you couldn't be more excited. The only class you had today passed in a blur. Your hand was beginning to cramp from taking notes on the lecture, but damn, computers are expensive.

You finish up the last few bits of notes, and stuff everything into your backpack. You've had it for years, and it shows, but you need the money for other things. Annoyance flashes through you- why do you always get the second hand experience? 

"Whatever," you mutter, forcing yourself to let it go. You sling the battered bag over your shoulder and get out your phone to text Darcy.

_Just got out of class. You up yet?_

You barely have time to turn the phone off before it dings with a reply.

_Duh! Come home so I can show you my outfit ;)_

You grin and roll your eyes. 

_On my way_

You shove your phone in your pocket and begin the trek home. Something flutters in your stomach excitedly at the thought of going to the coffee place. It must be that you haven't had any good coffee lately, you think. It's not a bad feeling anyway, so you brush it off and continue on.

By the time you've made it home, your phone has dinged about a million times - all texts from Darcy, you figure. Said omega beams when you finally open the door, showcasing her outfit, "So, what do you think?"

You give the outfit a once over. "You look pretty, Darcy." She blushes and grins. "I really like the green on you." She gives the dress a twirl and giggles. 

"Thanks! Do you think Steve'll like it?" She looks almost shy asking, dress bunched up between her hands. You step forward and unclench them, smoothing out the soft fabric. 

"Darce, he will _love_ it. Believe me." She lifts her eyes up to yours, uncertainly. "That man is head over heels in love with you." Her face colors again, but she looks happier, more relaxed. 

"Thanks, (Y/N)." 

You smile in return and dump your bag on the floor next to the couch. "You ready to head out? Steve's meeting us there, right?"

Darcy grabs your arm. "Nonono! I have something for you to wear. You don't have to wear that-" She cuts herself off, and mutters something under her breath. You sigh. 

"And who exactly am I trying to impress? I just want coffee. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes." Peter's voice sounds right next to your ear and you jump back in surprise. He chortles, pointing at you with a grin. "That was funny."

"Shut up."

He imitates your reaction again, giggling.

"Or I will hit you."

The grin leaves his face and his hands shoot up in a placating manner. "Sorry!" 

You grin, barely managing to catch the dress Darcy tosses at you.

"Go try it on!"

"I'm not trying to impress anyone, you know," You indicate, giving Darcy a look.

She puts her hands on her hips. "And you think I am?" 

With a huff, you finally obey and slip the summer dress on in the privacy of your own room. Surprised at the comfortable feel, you allow yourself a peek in the mirror. The fabric is soft and thin; breathable. The red looks beautiful on you, bringing out your eyes, and the dress hugs your figure nicely. You smile, feeling cherished in how well Darcy picked this for you. 

"Come on! Let's see it!" Peter yells, excitement tinging his voice.

You smooth your hands down the sides one more time and open the door.

"Told ya." Darcy smirks smugly. 

"Woah! (Y/N), dude, you look great." You blush at Peter's tone. 

"Thanks, guys," you meet their eyes shyly. "Now, who's ready for coffeeee!"

" _So_ ready," Darcy groans, "Let's go, move it." She ushers you out of the door, biggest smile gracing her face.

By the time you've found a table to sit at, you've gotten a good feel of the place- high ceilings, white, simple style with minimalistic decor. It feels like refreshing, like you can breath and not feel trapped. Darcy and Steve make their way over, both holding two cups of coffee. 

"I hope two of those are for me," You tease with a grin.

Darcy quirks a brow. "(Y/N), no. One's for him." She gestures to the door right as it jingles open. 

"What?" Confusion laces your tone. 

"Did you not get the hundred texts I sent you earlier-" You suddenly can't hear her voice anymore. Or maybe you can, and you just don't care enough to listen to what she's saying. 

You freeze as the scent fills your lungs. A mixture of freshly cut grass, something woodsy, and the ocean. You never thought the feeling of safety and home could be embodied in a smell but here it is.

You suck in another mouthful and stand to turn around, coming face to face- more like face to chest, a very broad chest, mind you- with _him _.__

Beautiful blue eyes blaze with emotion, and the awe in his voice is heart-wrenching. "You're... you're my mate." Darcy's gasp is audible. Your jaw flounders. No way in _hell_ is your mate the Winter Soldier.

You tear your hands from his chest, despite the effort it takes - when did that happen?

You stumble back, mouth opening and closing without your permission. His eyes implore you to speak, brows scrunched down in a plea, hopeful smile resting on his lips.

Your eyes linger on his mouth for a moment. Almost as if hearing your thoughts, perfect, white teeth bite down on pouty, pink lips. Your eyes flick back up to his in surprise, and the smirk his mouth forms should be illegal with the way it gets your heart racing. 

"I'm Bucky. Bucky Barnes." His voice is smooth, and the deep tone tugs at something in your chest. _Submit,_ your brain whispers to you, _submit._ You take another breath, inhaling the heavenly mix with closed eyes.

"I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N). But please, call me (Y/NN)." Somehow, you manage to find your voice. 

His warm hand grasps your own gently, bringing it up to his lips where he plants a chaste kiss. "That's a lovely name. It's wonderful to finally meet you, (Y/N)." Your breath catches in your throat and you can't tear your eyes away from his. They swirl with emotion, crinkling at the corners in true happiness. "You look beautiful."

You blush, and only as he releases your hand do you miss its warmth, and realize just how safe a simple touch had made you feel. You immediately want it back. 

Your small bubble pops in an instant as Darcy exclaims, "Oh my God!" She turns to Steve. "I am like a matchmaker! I told you this would work- I can't believe this actually worked, this turned out so well!" She squeals in happiness and claps her hands.

Bucky turns to her with a grin. "I guess I do have you to thank for this, don't I?" He pulls her in for a quick hug. "It's good to see you again, Darcy." He pulls back and grins at Steve. "You too, Stevie." 

Steve clasps Bucky's right arm in his hand. "You too, Buck." He turns to you, flashing a small smile. "Be careful with this one. Ya hurt her, Darcy'll kill ya."

"Of course." Bucky's voice is soft and tender. 

You take another step back, away from the small group. Your thoughts are racing- how can they be so calm right now, act like this is normal? Your whole life, you've been told mates aren't real. And you'd never be lucky enough to be one of the few- yet, here you are. Your _mate_ is standing right in front of you. Your mate is the _Winter Soldier_. You're nothing next to him. He's an avenger, and you're what- a nobody. A worthless omega. 

Your breaths start coming more quickly, chest constricting painfully. Tears prick at your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a second before they fly open as someone touches you. You recoil instinctively, stumbling back again. Hurt and confusion swirl in Bucky's pretty blue eyes as he slowly draws his hand back. 

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" He sounds worried. _He's probably disgusted,_ your brain hisses at you, and you shake your head, trying to get the voice out of your head. 

You wipe at your face. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I'm-" Your voice is shaky and it breaks so you swallow and try again, "Sorry, I gotta go, I'm sorry." You brush past the three of them, guilt pulling heavily at your chest. "I'm sorry."

Something in you screams at you to turn back. It screams for Bucky. You ignore it and force yourself not to look back, the image of the pain in his eyes haunting you already. Tears stream down your face openly. The door jingles behind you, sounding like an ironic parallel to the sound of Bucky entering your life- and now...

Confusion and fear overwhelms you, and your speed walk turns to a run as soon as you're out of eye-sight. Your flats pound on the pavement, almost as loud as your ragged breaths. You clumsily wipe at your face again, only succeeding in smearing your tears even more. 

You burst in to the apartment and run to your room, where you slam the door and sink down against it. Your head falls to your knees, body racking with sobs. You ignore Peter's concerned inquiries, opting to cover your mouth instead, slamming a hand over it to muffle the noises. You remain there for a while, unable to control the hurt flowing through you. 

Eventually, you slip off Darcy's shoes with a quiet whimper, pulling the dress over your head aggressively and toss it into a corner. 

"Stupid dress," You mutter, sniffing violently. You pick yourself up from the floor and throw on a t-shirt and shorts, knowing they'll be ruined if you go through with what you're about to do, but you can't bring yourself to care.

You fling open your door, and push past Peter. He reaches an arm out to you, but pulls back with a gasp as your eyes flash and a growl erupts from your chest. Your own eyes widen in shock.

"I-'I'm so sorry, Peter." You curl in on yourself more, guilt swirling in your stomach at the hurt on his face. 

"Are you okay?" Of course he still asks if _you're_ okay, you think. Tears build up behind your eyes again, and you struggle to hold them back.

"Um, yeah," You sigh shakily, "I'm just gonna go for a run. Just some things on my mind."

He nods slowly, concern etched on his features. "Do you want me to come with you?" He asks softly.

You pause, considering the offer. _Yes._ You ache for someone to take care of you right now. But you can't ask that of Peter. He's sweet and thoughtful, compassionate. Everything you could want as an omega. _He_ deserves someone like Bucky, not you.

You sniffle and shake your head. "I'm okay. Thanks, though, Peter." 

His lips press together in a firm line. "Okay. I'm sorry."

You've clearly upset him. You turn away, hiding your face as the weight on your shoulders pushes down on you even more.

"I'm so sorry," You whisper. Then, you turn out the door, hesitating for a second as it slams behind you. You drop into a run, bare feet scraping on the concrete for a long time, until you finally reach grass. Eventually, you can see the tree line not too far ahead, and you leap into the air excitedly. Your t-shirt and shorts tear, and you let them fall to the ground behind you uncaringly. 

Big brown paws slam down as you return to the ground, and you double your speed as the raw energy flows through you. You tear through the forest, slowing only when there are hikers nearby, in fear of being seen. Wolves aren't all that common in New York, after all.

You let yourself run for what feels like hours, until your muscles shake from fatigue, and you flop down in a clearing. 

The breeze ruffles your fur, and you finally allow yourself to relax. The events from earlier return to you. While you realize running probably made things worse, the same insecurities prick at you. An attractive alpha like Bucky could have anyone. Not to mention that he's an Avenger and the Winter Soldier. Someone like him deserves someone better than you. All your issues and desires have no place in a relationship with Bucky. _Or anyone,_ your brain reminds you. 

You close your eyes and sigh. Even if Bucky would've been with you out of a sense of duty to his mate, you'd probably ruined it all by running. You only chance, gone. Hurt aches all over you, and you whimper quietly.

You let your thoughts drift again, let your mind empty as you watch the clouds pass. All different shapes and hues of color, until they finally turn vibrant reds and purples. The sun stands out as an enormous fiery orange, setting on the horizon.

You watch it sink until you can only see the ends of its light. Then, you pad over to a small den of rocks, where you settle down on a soft bed of moss. The last thing you see is the flurry of stars sparkling from the sky's dark canvas, before exhaustion causes your vision to swim, and your head slowly sinks to your paws as you drift off. 


	3. I'm the Unworthy One, Not You

You drift in and out of sleep, small jostling movements disturbing you occasionally, but you're so warm, and you feel safer than you ever have before. You can't keep your eyes open, the exhaustion is just too much. So you let yourself fall back into a blissful sleep. And maybe you imagined the soft shushings whenever you began to stir, and the gentle brush of lips against your forehead.

By the time you really wake up, light is streaming through your window, and you feel more rested than you have in the past half year. You yawn, and rub your eyes, a small noise of contentment escaping you. 

It's when you get up to use the bathroom that you realize that the t-shirt you're wearing is huge on you- bigger than even your most over-sized pajama shirts. You stretch it out in front of you, trying to see what it is. A whiff of fresh-cut grass wafts up to you, and you close your eyes in bliss. That's when it hits you. It's Bucky's. 

Panic seizes you. How did you get Bucky's shirt? Where is he? How did you even get home? Your thoughts race, and you spin around trying to collect yourself and assess your state. You finally meet your eyes in the mirror, and you're surprised at how bad you look.

Your eyes are puffy and red, and you have scrapes on your arms and legs from running through the forest so recklessly. Your feet sting, and you immediately regret the rash decision to run on foot to the woods. You curse your own stupidity, a few choice words spilling from your mouth.

You pause for a moment, eyes frozen on the t-shirt. It's red, just like your dress, only more worn. The material is soft between your fingers, and the shirt comes down to almost mid-thigh on you. It suddenly makes you feel little in comparison, and you lose any anger you had moments ago in favor of staring at the image in the mirror. You can't look away. It's _his. You feel like his._

Pictures run through your head. Bucky slipping the shirt over you. Him pulling you into his lap and rubbing your back, whispering little things into your ear. Bucky kissing you goodnight.

Your hand flies up to your forehead in realization. "Shit!"

 _Bucky_ brought you home. He must've carried you. He kissed you on the forehead. Your heart races. Bucky _found_ you. _Looked_ foryou. You exhale in a rush. "Fuck."

You fly through your bedroom door, sliding into the kitchen on socked feet. He put socks on you, too? An unfair warmth settles in your chest. You feel taken care of.

"And she awakens," Darcy drawls. There's a scowl on her face, and you shrink back, not knowing what to say.

"Darcy... I'm sorry." 

She raises her eyebrows. "Tell that to him, not me." She nods to the living room. You turn as slow as humanly possible. He can't still be here. Can he?

Your gaze is on the floor, head hanging down in embarrassment. Shame flickers through you. You manage to bring your eyes up for a second, and you suddenly feel an inexplicable urge to run to Bucky's arms. The corners of your lips turn down and you can feel your lower lip start to tremble. 

Darcy mumbles something about privacy, and saunters from the room. 

Bucky sighs, and swallows. He looks pained as he gestures for you to sit. "(Y/N), I just want to apologize." 

"W-what?" You find yourself rooted to the spot. "Why are _you_ apologizing?" 

He frowns, confusion etching itself on his features. That's when you notice that the couch has a pillow and blanket strewn across it, and Bucky looks like he didn't sleep a wink last night.

"Can you come here, please?" Your body moves of its own accord, obeying Bucky. You bring your knees up on the couch next to him, teeth digging into your lip viciously.

"I want to apologize for scaring you yesterday. I never meant to do that. I would never hurt you." His voice is so full of hurt, every word digs into you. "I know that I'm... I'm not worthy of someone like you."

You're too in shock to interrupt. Tears fill your eyes. You did this. 

"But I'm not _him_ anymore," his voice breaks, and you know he's talking about the Winter Soldier. Big, scared, blue eyes meet yours and it feels like you can see the entire world in them. 

" _Bucky_." Your own voice falters, and you hate yourself for letting him think it was his fault. "Bucky, it was my fault. I ran off. It- it had nothing to do with you being the Winter Soldier. I would never-" You have to pause. The guilt is overwhelming. "I'm the one who's unworthy. You're..." You gesture at him. "You're everything anyone could ever want. And I'm...me."

"Hey." His voice is stern, and his gaze burns into you. "You're _mine._ I want you- I _need_ you, (Y/N)." He pauses and seems to deflate. "But I understand if you don't want to be with me, because you're scared, or for any other reason. I'm sorry." He lets his eyes fall to his lap, and something akin to horror blooms in your gut. 

"No, Bucky! I would never turn you- or anyone- away because of their past. Especially when I know it wasn't something you had control of." You try to keep your voice soft. "I was just overwhelmed. I couldn't stop thinking, and everything just became too much. I didn't know what else to do besides...run." You look up at him, and you can see understanding dawning on his face. 

"I'm so sorry, Bucky. I never meant to hurt you. I swear-" He cuts you off by pulling you into a hug and you've never felt so whole. Everything around you seems to click into place, and you exhale what feels like all of your worries into his shoulder. 

"Is this okay?" He asks after a few minutes, as if dreading the answer. You can only nod and grip him tighter for a moment before you gather your courage.

"More, please." It's a whisper, so quiet you're not even sure he heard you. But then he pulls you into his lap, one hand pressed against your back, the other cupping your head to bring it to the junction of his neck and shoulder. You keen and melt against him. It feels like you were made to be here. 

"You were." Bucky's voice is muffled, but you can feel his words rumble through his chest. You squeak, not realizing you'd said that out loud. He simply chuckles, and smooths a hand over your hair. "This what you were so afraid of, princess?"

You're so glad that your face is hidden in him because you're sure it's 100 shades of beetroot red. All you can do is mumble something unintelligible into his shirt, making him chuckle once again.

He holds you even tighter against him, pressing his face into your neck and inhaling deeply. "You smell so good, y'know? Like home."

You pull back with a giggle as he rubs his stubble on your neck. "That tickles!"

You think the smile on his face might just be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. It's dazzling. 

"Bucky?" You duck your head down as you ask.

"Yeah?" He regards you warmly, smile softening. 

"Am I... what you expected?" You fist a hand in his shirt, needing something to tether you to him. 

He brushes back a strand of hair with his metal hand, every so gently, blue eyes shining in sincerity. "You're more than I ever could've wished for."

You can't come up with an adequate response, so you opt to "hmph" and return to your spot on his shoulder. "I know you may not believe that yet, baby girl." The nickname sends a flurry of butterflies to your stomach. "That's okay. But I will keep telling you that, until you do." 

"No!" you protest. You're not sure why, it's just the first thing that popped into your head. Your tone of voice doesn't carry much weight, though. It sounds more like a child's pouty retort.

" _Yes_ , baby girl." He presses a kiss to your temple. "And by the way," he adjusts the sleeve of your shirt. "You look _adorable_ in my clothes."

You pull back to that same brilliant grin. It's infectious, and you can't help but smile back. His warm hand rubbing circles on your back is soothing, and you place both hands on his chest as he relaxes against the couch. 

"How did I get back?" You ask, more seriously. "Last night, I mean."

His smile drops a bit, and his eyes soften sadly. "After you ran off, I thought it might be better to give you some time. I didn't want to come here because I didn't want to crowd you."

Your thumb rubs his pec over his shirt, and he smiles as he looks down at it. "Then, Peter called Darcy and said you were really upset. She called me later, saying you'd never come home and you left your phone and everything here." The more he says, the more his lips curve into a frown. "I got worried."

"I didn't mean to scare anyone, really." The apology tumbles from your mouth. "I just... didn't know how else to clear my head."

He nods. "I understand. I just didn't want to leave you out there alone. And I don't think you would've appreciated me crawling into that den with you to spend the night." 

It's your turn to frown. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't even think about how you might feel after me running off. I thought you wouldn't have wanted me anyway..." You trail off, guilt returning. "But thank you for bringing me home."

"Of course. I liked getting to carry you and tuck you in." You shiver in the intensity of your feelings.

"Thank you. I appreciate that." You make a move to slide off his lap. Firm hands grasp you, this time on your ass.

"Where are you going, princess?" You gasp, biting back a whimper. As if realizing a mistake, he pulls his hands from you, and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm not forcing you to stay here, you can go. Whatever you want, I'm sorry." 

You take a deep breath in an effort to regain control of your senses. A mistake, it seems as it only clouds your head further. Your grip on his shirt tightens, and you shift in his lap. He groans softly, hands hovering over you. You whine, "Please."

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, hands resting on your hips. 

"Please, alpha." It sounds desperate, and Bucky's reaction is instantaneous. His hands grip you tightly, hard enough to bruise, and he leans in dangerously slow. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his. They're soft and plump, and they feel perfect against your own. The kiss is tame for a minute, until you grind down, wanting to make him groan again. 

He growls this time, nipping at your bottom lip as his hand slides up until it's against the side of your neck, and his thumb rests on your throat. You outright moan at that, and he tightens his grip the tiniest bit. Your head lolls to the side, and even you can smell the sweet scent of your arousal. 

The rumble in his chest is even louder now, and you pant against his mouth, little whines coming in a flurry. 

"Does that feel nice, baby girl?" It sounds more like a taunt than a question, like he already knows the answer and is just teasing you. Heat is pooling in your stomach already, and you can't help but bite your lip.

His hand slides down to your bare thigh, inching closer to the one place you want- _need_ him to touch you. 

"Oh my GOD! I did not need to see that!" Darcy's voice is an unpleasant soberer. You jump from Bucky's lap, looking back and forth at the two of them. Bucky shrugs. Your eyes feel like they're about to pop out of your head. 

"Okay, I'm sorry," You begin. Bucky stops you from going any further. 

"It's not like I ain't seen you an' Stevie before." There's a brazen lilt to his brow, and his expression dares her to say something back. She flounders for a moment and then shrugs.

"Fair enough. Just not on my couch."

"Hey, it's my couch too!" You remind her, rolling your eyes. You turn back to Bucky, who looks somewhat bashful. 

"I'm sorry if I rushed anything. I hope I didn't push you." His gaze holds weight, and relief washes over his face as you shake your head.

"Bucky, I liked it. _Really_ liked it, if you couldn't tell." He grins, which then slides into a smirk. 

"Come here." He holds out a hand. You take it, allowing yourself to be pulled to his chest. He holds you for a moment, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Then, he pulls back and tilts your head up for another kiss, this time on the lips.

You break the kiss, sighing happily. "I could get used to that."

He smiles, leaning in to kiss your nose. Your face scrunches up and he laughs. "You're adorable."

You blush and shake your head. Looking down, you notice you're still wearing his shirt. "Oh." You fiddle with the hem of it. "I should probably give this back."

He shakes his head. "No, baby girl. I want you to keep it, okay?"

Warmth settles over you, and you find yourself nodding. "Thank you, alpha." 

His chest puffs up proudly, and he beams at you. "Of course. Anything for you."


	4. Chapter 4

It's been a week since you met Bucky and things are going well, if not a little slowly. Since touching him for the first time, it feels like your lungs are starving and he's the oxygen you ache to devour in gulps. The memory of his hand on your thigh makes your breath catch in your throat and a bundle of desire spark in your stomach. 

You let your lip slide from your teeth and stop your hand from sliding any farther down your body. You didn't know if you could still touch yourself. Bucky owned you. And as hot as that was, you didn't know what that meant in terms of what you were allowed to do. Darcy had told you that Steve imposed a no coming without permission rule, which you _so_ hadn't needed to know. However, it did set your mind at a pause. You didn't want to get in trouble.

The dirty part of you nags at you. Why can't you just ask him? Or better yet- ask him to touch you?

You groan, and shove your face into the pillow. Everything feels hard all of a sudden, like you've lost all control, and not in the good way. What does Bucky expect from an omega? From his mate?

You pull the phone on the bed over to you. Your fingers hover over Bucky's name and your teeth are back to digging into your lip, although lust has been taken out of the equation and replaced with apprehension. Will he pick up? 

A mental war breaks out. Do you text him, or call?

Anxiety wins over, and you pull up messages. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you type quickly and press send, praying you didn't make any embarrassing spelling errors.

_Hey, Bucky. It's (Y/N). Are you free?_

What if it's not spelled as 'Bucky'?

"Shut up," you whisper to yourself, rolling your eyes. God, sometimes your anxiety riddled side asks the dumbest questions. You mentally picture a girl frantically wringing her hands, fretting over how to spell 'Bucky". It makes you giggle. 

Your phone pings, and suddenly the girl isn't so funny anymore. 

_Hey, (Y/N) :)_

_For you, always. What's up?_

The double text makes you blush. But also, it makes you roll your eyes at the blatant cheesiness. 

You wait, unsure of how to proceed. Your brows crinkle as you mull over a response.

 _Can I come_ _over?_ Immediately you regret it. Embarrassment paints your cheeks pink. Why did you suggest that, god, why-

_Of course you can. Mi casa es su casa._

The joke makes your heart flutter irrationally. Weren't you just thinking cheesiness was stupid? He texts again, after a minute.

_I'm assuming you haven't been to Stark Tower?_

Newfound anxiety bubbles in your gut. No, you haven't been to Stark Tower. 

_Nope._ You bite at your nails as you await a response. Thinking of trying to talk to him about such private things in such a public area seems impossible. Before you can stop yourself, you shoot another quick message. _I'm not sure I want to go there, either._

Bucky texts back no more than a second later. _Good thing I've got my own place, then, right sweetheart?_

The nickname in combination with the imminent relief makes your heart flutter. A minute later, he sends an address and forwards a google map route. It makes you smile. You grab keys and throw your hair into a ponytail on your way out, grateful to already have the route pre-planned. Thanks, Bucky.

\----

The drive over was quick. The minute you waited in the car added time to the clock. And now, as you stand in front of the door, deciding whether to knock or ring the bell, you can't help but hesitate once more. Closing your eyes and counting to three, you raise your hand to knock. Before your fist can even touch the wood, it swings open to reveal Bucky. 

There's a huge grin splitting his face, and the soft-looking blue t-shirt not only makes his arms look amazing, but it brings out the brilliant hue of his eyes, making them seem brighter. 

"Hi, baby girl. Are you gonna come in, or did you want to keep standing on the porch a bit longer?" The teasing tone in his voice brings heat to your cheeks. You level a playful glare at him, but can't come up with an adequate response. You can see how he and Steve were best friends.

"Don't give me that look." He's still smiling. "It was adorable." He opens the door wider, and you step into the air-conditioned foyer.

The apartment is beautiful, open: full of light. It's big, but the cozy, lived-in feel makes it seem smaller and more homey. You look around, awe-struck. When you finally meet his gaze again, his chest is puffed up with pride, and his eyes shine with warmth. 

"This is beautiful, Bucky," you breathe, adding with a grin, "Much better than Stark Tower." 

The reward is a laugh, one that lights you up inside and makes your toes curl. He seems radiant. You notice how his hair glints in the light, making it look blonder than it really is. He brushes a hand through it upon your staring, and it looks so soft that you want to reach out and touch it for yourself. It takes a surprising amount of restraint to keep from doing it and embarrassing yourself.

He smiles, softer this time, after shutting the door gently. "Come on, I made some dinner." Upon seeing the look of surprise on your face, he chuckles. "Don't worry. I already tried it to make sure it wouldn't kill ya."

You can't help but grin. Thank god, he has a sense of humor. You take his outstretched hand and let him lead you to the kitchen. The aroma once inside is awfully enticing, and your mouth waters. Who knew Bucky could cook?

He sits you down at the table, light colored wood, set with a cloth, silverware and glasses, although you can't tell what it is that fills them. He carries the plates over and deposits one smoothly in front of you. "Pasta with lemon and asparagus, and roasted chicken with cilantro."

It's cut neatly, and smells like heaven. You smile at him across the table as he sits down. "This looks amazing, Bucky. Thank you."

He grins back, almost shyly. You look down, fixing your napkin on your lap. When you look up, you're surprised to see him holding out a forkful of the steaming food.

"May I?" It's soft, inquired as if it were an honor he asked for. 

You nod, unable to find the words. He brings the fork to your mouth, hand held under it to catch any spillage. Your eyes slip shut as your lips close around the food, and you can't help but make a soft sound of approval. 

"It's delicious." You speak once your mouth is free, and the way his eyes have softened tugs at your heart. "Thank you, alpha." The words slipped out, but oddly enough, they feel right. 

"You're welcome, sweetheart. It's the least I could do." 

The smile never leaves your face as the two of you eat and chat about the city and your favorite things to do. The biggest grin splits across your face when you find he's filled the wine glasses with sparkling apple juice. Your heart feels like bursting.

Once you've cleared your plate and Bucky's had another helping, you stand and take both plates to the sink. When Bucky sidles up behind you, large hands covering yours, you wonder for the first time that night, if you've messed up. He shakes his head softly. "Let me."

You begin to protest, but he gives you a look that shuts you up, so you let him take over. Your head clouds over at the, "Good girl," that follows. 

It only takes a minute for him to finish and set aside the dishes. He wipes his hands on a towel and turns to face where you're leaning against the kitchen island. The marble is cool where your arms touch it, but the intensity in Bucky's eyes brings a new kind of heat to your body. 

"Wanna watch a movie?" The simple request surprises you, especially when Bucky's voice is low and it seems like something else is on his mind.

You nod, rubbing the remaining chill from your arms. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

He grins, flashing dazzlingly white teeth. In a flash, he's scooped you up and is carrying you to the couch like you weigh nothing. As he deposits you gently, you register the way your heart pounds against your chest and try to catch your breath again as he beams at you. "Hold on just a sec, I'll be right back, kay?"

He waits for you to nod before he dashes off. You swallow, breathing deeply to calm yourself. You hadn't expected him to pick you up out of the blue like that. What if he thought you were heavy? 

You try to push away the insecurities, looking at Bucky's DVD selection. They were mostly Disney, to your surprise. You hadn't taken him for a Disney fan. Though, he does have the hair and the smile of a Disney prince. 

Your brow unfurrrows as Bucky returns. 

"How'd you get on the floor, baby girl?" He looks like he's barely containing a giggle. "Thought I put ya on the couch."

You look around, then shake your head. Disney had entranced you, it seems. "I guess I was just trying to get a look at the movies. I'm sorry." The words come out mumbled and quiet. 

"Aw no, don't apologize. It's okay, (Y/NN). C'mere, I've got something for ya." He holds up a sweatshirt, obviously one of his. It says NEW YORK in big letters. 

You stay on the ground, trying to blink away the fuzzy feeling in your head. Being taken care of like this is slightly overwhelming for you. Bucky's smile turns concerned when you don't get up from your position on the carpet. He comes around the couch and kneels down in front of you. 

"Hey. Are you okay?" His tone carries some authority, and it cuts through the fog in your mind. 

You nod. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. Sorry."

"That's okay, sweetheart." His voice is soft, almost contemplative. "You wanna get this sweater on?"

You nod again, just now noticing the slight chill of your skin. Feeling small, all you can do is look up at him with big eyes, hoping he can understand what you're craving without having to say the words out loud. "Please."

"Arms up, baby girl." It doesn't sound like a command, but you can't help but obey. Your mouth parts slightly and you stare up at his face in awe. His brows are scrunched up in concentration as he slides the big sweatshirt over your arms, and then pulls it over your head. He tugs it down gently and then grins when he meets your eyes again. 

"Comfy?" Bucky's smile is infectious and you can't help but return it. You stretch your arms out in front of you, trying to get your hands to come through the ends of the sleeves. They appear for a moment, but are quickly swallowed by the soft shirt once again. 

"They're too short." You pout, finding it hard to use a normal voice. 

He laughs, shaking his head. "What's too short?"

You lift up the dangling sleeves. "Arms!" 

His laugh is musical. "They're not too short, I'm just a little bigger than you, that's all."

"A little?" Your protest is indignant. "A lot!"

Bright blue eyes crinkle at the corners, and the smile is plastered on his face. "You're adorable, ya know that?"

You scrunch up in the big sweater, suddenly feeling shy. He picks up on it right away, scent turning softer and more calming. You breathe in the oceanic air, almost able to feel the tide rushing at your feet. 

You're about to open your mouth to call his name when his phone begins to blare.

"Shit! Hold on baby girl, I gotta get this." He jumps up, rushing to the kitchen. You can guess what it is when he returns after a minute. His face says it all.

"Mission, huh?" You sound small and almost wounded. He nods, face stony. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know when I'll be back." You nod, suddenly blinking back tears. It wasn't fair. You wanted him to stay and watch Disney with you, hold you. Feeling rejected, you tug at the sleeves of the sweater, trying to pull it off. 

"Here, I- I'll give this back." Your anxiety increases as you struggle to pull it off. 

"No." Bucky's voice is like steel. "You're keeping this while I'm gone, okay? And I meant it, when I said this is your place too. You can stay here." 

Hopefully, he adds, "If you want." You nod, playing with your sleeves. 

A sad smile sits on his lips. "I'll try to text you when I can. It'll be from a burner phone." 

You follow him to the door, where he grabs the duffel sitting against the wall. There's a hard glint in his eyes when he turns to say goodbye, and you suddenly see the soldier in him. He's a completely different person from the man you just spent the night with. 

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)." He sounds mechanical, almost. You hate it. 

"It's okay- yeah. I get it. It's okay." 

He leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple. Your eyes burn as he pulls away. As the front door closes and his bike speeds away, you realize you barely said goodbye and you didn't know if he was coming back. You trudge back to the couch, not really feeling like watching anything anymore, but set yourself down on the carpeting in front of it nonetheless. 

You feel empty, like someone just turned off the lights and cut you off. You ignore the way your tears tickle your nose as they slide down past it, staring at the wall. It's painted a soft, eggshell white, meant not to provoke any angry thoughts. Darcy had told you about the same colors in Steve's room at Stark's place. You hated it. It felt as if all the color in your life drained away into that blank wall.

You pick yourself up from the floor, wandering through his apartment. It was open and clean. It looked as if Bucky was just beginning to add some personal touches. You wonder how much time he really spends here. Your feet carry you to the staircase at the front, where you pause to look at the photos on the wall. Your fingers trail over the frames idly.

It's easy to recognize the Howling Commandos, but you can see a difference in Bucky's smile. It looks less forced, although he still looks haunted and bags hang heavy under his eyes. You brush over his short hair, smiling softly. You liked it better long. 

The next picture is of him and a girl. They're both doubled over laughing, making the resemblance uncanny. You know who it is from listening to Steve's stories. Rebecca, Bucky's sister. Your heart hurts for him, and you decide to stop invading his privacy. He would tell you about them in his own time. _If he comes_ _back._

You push on, peeking into the first room you come across. It can't be Bucky's, there is no smell of him in it, only fresh sheets and detergent. The walls are a pretty shade of blue, though. Almost like his eyes.

The next room is a little more lived in. You can smell the alpha from outside the door, even though the bed is made neatly. You edge forward, hand smoothing over the soft fabric of his duvet. It's white, but still clean. The walls are a pretty lilac color, and you find you like it far more than the blank white of the lower level. A yawn overtakes you, and you rest on Bucky's bed. 

The smell of him pulls you closer, and you shove your face in his pillow, breathing him in. You set your phone on your nightstand and throw off you clothes to burrow under the covers. Tears fill your eyes again, and you clutch the pillow close to you. You needed Bucky. You needed your alpha. You whine and rub your neck on Bucky's pillow, trying to scent mark yourself with it. The only thing keeping you from falling apart is the way Bucky's shirt makes you feel tiny. 

You curl up in Bucky's bed, feeling lonely and lost, and above all, confused. Bucky had been taking care of you, but then turned almost cold so quickly. It was scary. You stuff your thumb in your mouth, trying to bring back the feeling from before. Without your alpha it all feels futile now. You sniffle pitifully, thumb tucked into your mouth and hand curled into Bucky's blankets. You want him to come home. 

The last thought before you fall asleep is that you never got around to talking to Bucky about your relationship. The entire reason you came over in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you like where this is going, or if you have any requests for something to happen!


	5. Well Hello Spidey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade just so happens to be nearby when Peter needs help. 
> 
> Brief attack scene, just to warn y'all...

Peter's heart was pounding. Adrenaline came in surges, leaving him shaking in the interim. His web shooters were almost out, meaning he only had a few minutes for the cops to show up before he was in trouble. Good thing he'd called the cops. Right?

His heart sinks. In the midst of all the fighting, he'd forgotten. 

Peter knows he's in real trouble now, running out of energy and ammunition in a dark New York alley. No one would be around to save him. Especially since he'd been in such a rush that he'd forgotten to apply enough scent blockers, meaning he'd likely sweated them almost completely off by now.

_Where's the friendly neighborhood Spiderman when I need him?_

Peter hates himself for the irony. 

A blow comes out of nowhere and sends him sprawling onto the hard stone of the street. He cries out, vision going blurry for a few seconds. A chuckle sounds somewhere to his right, and then hot breath invades his space. 

"You reek like scared little omega, you know that?" The man's eyes blaze, and Peter swallows hard. His head pounds, and he licks blood from his lip.

"Still smell better than you." He spits out a mouthful of the red substance, catching the alpha off guard and allowing him to get a kick to the groin in.

As the man doubles over, Peter launches from the ground and takes off. Just when he thinks he's out of harms way, a hand reaches out and yanks him back down by the ankle. His head smacks into the ground and it's all he can do to stay awake despite the ringing in his ears. He claws at the cobbled stone in front of him, trying to pull himself up. He can't help but feel like the victim in a poorly done horror movie. 

All of a sudden, there's a body on top of him, and drunken breath in his face. Peter gags, panic building up in him as he realizes he can't get away. The alpha on top of him chuckles, and Peter finds the scream trapped in his throat as he stares into his assailants gleaming red eyes.

"Shh, now, pretty omega. Just let me take what's mine. Be a good little slut." It's said in an alpha tone, a direct order. Everything in Peter screams at him to disobey. 

Peter forces a growl out of his chest, teeth sharp in his mouth. He can taste the metallic tang of blood as it coats his throat. His muscles strain as he tries to rear up, but the bigger man pins his arms to the cold, stony ground with his knees and grins. 

"You're a feisty one, eh?" Hairy arms lead down to hands that fumble with a belt buckle. Ice-like dread fills Peter's veins. Bile rises in his mouth at the sight of the alpha's heavy cock hanging in front of him, glistening at the tip. The alpha gives a low moan as he takes it in hand and strokes himself in Peter's face. His shaft is red and pulsing angrily and the heavy musk of aroused alpha permeates the air. 

Peter's very soul is squirming to get away. He feels a dribble of precum trickle down onto his neck, sliding past his scent gland. It burns worse than anything he's ever felt, and he writhes under the alpha, who only laughs and squeezes at Peter's pec. A guttural moan rumbles from his chest.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, terror finally clouding over everything else. A scream erupts from his throat, but is choked off by a heavy hand on his throat in a moment. He coughs around it, blood rushing to his head as he splutters for air. There's an outraged roar, and n a second the body on top of him is gone. There follows a scent. A hint of gunpowder and cinnamon that makes Peter's head cloud in the best way. 

Peter coughs up a storm as air fills his lungs again, throat burning like its on fire. His body wants to give up, but he knows he can't let himself and he forces his eyes back open. He's dead if he's not awake. He gasps in huge breaths, ears honing in on the sounds of fighting. He sits up, wiping at the blood spurting from his nose and lifts his head weakly, surprised at the show in front of him. There are two wolves standing off in front of him. 

He can tell which one was attacking him by the blood-red eyes glowing in the dark. It seems like his lips curl up in a sneer. The other wolf's rear is turned towards Peter, but Peter can tell he's an alpha by his height and stature. There's a growl emanating from both of their chests, but the one guarding Peter's is deeper. More menacing. The two turn, and all of a sudden, Peter can see the scars across the tawny alpha's muzzle. There's one that cuts just under his eye, stretching down to his neck. Peter is inexplicably drawn to it. 

Suddenly, the darker wolf lunges. 

Peter scrambles back. He mouths a silent, "fuck," and tries to swallow down the panic in his throat. 

The wolf's jaws snap on thin air as the big wolf ducks away. _Peter's wolf._ The omega shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind, but the scent of cinnamon tickles at his nose, urging him to submit. He barely stops his head from lolling backwards and he shudders at the way his scent glands weakly roll off an appealing scent, masking the way he reeks of fear for a second- _what the hell?_

All Peter can focus on is the way the tawny colored wolf dances away from each attack with practiced ease. It's mesmerizing, the way huge muscles ripple under his coat. Suddenly, his head throbs in extreme pain and he lets out a small cry, clutching his temple in his hands. His vision swims and it's mere seconds before he slumps against the stone wall behind him, passed out. 

\--- 

Wade is out for a jog when he smells something yummy. The scent seems to call out to him. Stopping, he takes a deep breath in, nose turned up in the air. A pleased noise rumbles through his chest. As he follows the scent and gets closer, his enhanced hearing allows him to pick up sounds of a struggle, and the scent sours and stinks of fear. Wade snarls, the urge to protect whoever this is growing by the second. 

A terrified scream pierces the air but is quickly silenced. Wade leaps forward, blood boiling when he sees the scene at hand. A roar bellows out of his chest, and he lunges forward, knocking the alpha off of the pinned figure. 

Both of them are quick to shift, and Wade snarls his assent when the alpha drops to a crouch in a challenge. He situates himself between the angry wolf and the person, who he can now see is little more than a boy. Wade's growl intensifies and he easily side-steps the alpha's first attack. It becomes a game after that. Wade avoids every charge, managing to get a claw or tooth in each time until the alpha before him is a bloody, weakened mess.

Suddenly, the omega lets out a pained cry, reminding him that there's someone he must tend to. He quickly lunges forward, getting his jaw around a leg. Bone cracks easily and the resounding howl is bone-chilling. He snarls again, sharp teeth on show. The other alpha whines, and limps off into the darkness. Wade debates killing him as he remembers what he'd witnessed moments before. The only thing that stops him is the sudden, acrid scent of urine soaking into someone's clothes. 

Wade shifts again, worry overtaking him. He hurries over to the figure, a shocked gasp leaving him when he recognizes the suit. " _Spidey??_ "

His heart breaks. Spidey's mask has been torn off, and his suit's got rips and gashes all over, some bloody. Wade frets for a second, hands hovering over his Spidey. When Peter starts to shiver, Wade's resolve crumbles and he ever-so-gently gathers Peter into his arms, ignoring the way Peter's wet tights press against his skin. Something about him felt different tonight. He looked thinner than Wade was used to seeing him, and the bags under his eyes were obvious even when shadowed by the blood and grit. 

He presses the omega- _Spidey's an omega?? OH come on, you always knew he couldn't be an alpha with that ass-_ the _omega_ to his chest and hurries them to Wade's apartment. He's careful not to jostle anything in fear of waking Peter up or hurting him more. He was likely concussed. Wade curses himself for letting him fall asleep. 

The door clicks shut behind them and Wade makes quick work of Peter's clothes once he's got him on the couch. The grime covering Peter's body makes Wade grimace. Such a pretty omega should be clean, not covered in bruises and pain. He takes a moment to calm himself when he sees the way Peter's rubs jut out, just barely enough to not be noticeable to just anyone. He promises to feed his Spidey more tacos.

Wade hesitates when he comes to Peter's underwear. The friend in him says to wait, let Peter come to and let him shower by himself. But the alpha in him is too strong, and he knows if he doesn't get Peter cleaned up now, he's going to get a rash, if he hasn't already, and maybe even a UTI. He can't let that happen. So he discards the omega's underwear and tends to Peter with a warm washcloth.

He tries not to look too much at Peter's private parts, feeling wrong for invading Peter's privacy already. He hastens, finishing up by dressing the boy's wounds and gently carrying him bridal style to Wade's own room, where he slips a t-shirt over Peter's head. He coos internally at the way it covers Peter's bottom adorably. "Oh!" Wade smacks himself in the forehead and quickly slips a pair of boxers over Peter's slim hips. He hopes Peter doesn't mind that they have Hulk on them.

He tucks the smaller boy under the covers, his alpha basically purring at the sight of him in their bed. He's turning away to fix something to eat when a smell stops him in his tracks. His eyes grow huge. "No. No way."

He whips around. The smell is definitely coming from his Spidey. He stands there with his jaw hanging open in utter disbelief. "No fucking way." Spidey can't be his mate. It's not possible. He staggers a little, grasping the wall for support. Suddenly, Wade feels like he has to get out. He can't process this. He throws one last look at Peter before ducking out of the room, donning his Deadpool suit as fast as humanely possible (well, enhanced human) and practically sprinting out the door. 

\---

Peter groans as he comes to. The light streaming from the window is too much and his head starts pounding immediately. He swallows past the soreness in his throat, hand coming up to touch where the alpha's hand had been. Tears begin to burn behind his eyes, and he finally realizes he doesn't know where he is. He slips out of the bed stealthily, sucking in a breath when his injuries protest. _Shit, he'd gotten fucked up._

He slips out of the door and steals into a closet when he hears a door shut somewhere. He covers his mouth, trying to hide the sound of his breathing as he crouches behind a stack of boxes. Heavy boots clomp on the floor and then stop. Peter waits in tense silence and prays that they don't find him. The footsteps return, coming closer and closer. Peter feels whoozy. They stop suddenly, Peter guesses, at the room he just occupied. 

"Shit!" A familiar voice curses. "Shit, shit, fuck, shit." Peter's brow furrows. He knows that voice. He strains his ears. "Fucking idiot. Great time to leave- right when your mate is passed out in a strangers bed. Yeah, great choice, douchebag."

Disbelief courses through Peter. What the hell was he talking about? Mate? A stranger's bed? He looks down, realization dawning upon him. The Hulk boxers gave it away. It had to be Deadpool. He almost faints at the relief that washes over him. "Thank fuck."

Within seconds, the door to his hiding place swings open and Peter could kiss the man in the frame. "Hey, 'pool," he slurs, sagging against the wall. It's hard to tell what Wade is thinking with the mask on, but the eyes are narrowed. Some of Peter's relief fades. 

"Shit." Wade curses, and then puts his hand over his heart. "Thank fuck." He then looks more accusingly at Peter. "Do you have any idea how badly you scared me, Spidey?"

" 'M sorry," Peter feels small. The scent he can now pinpoint to Wade's shirt is intoxicating and he wants to drown in it. Wade tugs off his mask, hair standing up sweaty and his eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. It tugs at Peter's heart in ways he can't explain. 

Wade drops to his knees in front of Peter and pulls him into a fierce hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, Peter."

Peter hasn't quite processed things either, so the only thing he utters is, "How d'you know my name?"

Wade chuckles. "I know everything, baby boy." He noses into Peter's neck softly, light five o'clock shadow tickling at Peter's sensitive spots in a pleasant way. The nickname slips past Peter's defenses and he can't help but slump against Wade. The alpha's arm wraps around Peter's back and rubs gently. Peter presses in tighter, seeking comfort from his best friend. 

"You wanna stay here, or would you rather go to the bed, Petey?" His voice is soft, and Peter takes a moment to think. The belt buckle of Wade's suit presses uncomfortably into his side, and he murmurs, "Bed."

The tenderness with which the alpha lifts him is surprising for someone of his size. Peter thinks nothing has ever felt so right. He whines when Wade sets him down and disappears with a soft, "Wait right here. I'm gonna get you some meds."

Wade reappears a minute later with a glass of water and double the dosage of meds of what a normal person would take. He sets them down, smooths back Peter's hair and waits patiently while Peter swallows the pills down slowly. "Good boy," he praises, smiling warmly down at Peter. The omega's head clouds over. It's been so long since anyone's called him that. His eyes flutter shut as Wade continues to pet him. He's asleep pretty quickly after the medication sets in, and Wade waits a moment longer to admire the sleeping beauty before tugging off the suit and letting the steaming water of the shower wash off his insecurities about being an alpha. He could do this. For Peter, he could do it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if there's anything you want to see/happen in the upcoming chapters!


End file.
